If you listen carefully, you can hear a whisper or two spinning through the thick and stuffy air tonight. Amidst the sounds of pre-gig lift music and the clinking bottles of lost people frantically trying to locate their friends in the dark, there’s a hubbub of anticipation; ‘Phoenix…Jools Holland… funk..’ the gossips eagerly cackle, exchanging glowing reviews and rubbing their hands with a hungry glee. For tonight, Coventry plays gracious host to two of 2001’s indie must-sees; France’s Phoenix and homegrown duo Turin Brakes.

Anyone expecting Phoenix to be propped up by a third-rate back-room pub band would have tugged their beards in fury as Turin Brakes boarded the stage. Lumped in of late with the deviously fashionable ‘sad jumper, happy face’ collective spearheaded by Badly Drawn boy et al, the crisp Subcircus-style vocals and searing bottleneck-guitar climaxes of forthcoming single The Door demand attention in their own right. Seated, with arms frantically strumming and whole legs tapping in synchronisation, the sweaty browed duo (sans their occasional live band) pummel their way through their gloriously unfettered set. On this evidence, Turin Brakes could make slidey guitared soul-searching valid once more.

And as the friction of the front row rubbing their hands with ever-more ferocity begins to heat the room beyond Hades-level, Phoenix arrive, like a gaggle of eager floppy-haired schoolboys about to break the rules and play funkrockpopindie hopscotch with no shoes on.

The latest indie offering from France, these guys know how to raid the best of 80s music whilst leaving the hairspray and cod-romo posturings back in the charity shop. A pigeonholers’ nightmare, they veer dangerously through punk, rock, pop, funk like a tie-fighter out of control, stretching rhythms and melodies like warm playdoh and changing styles at the drop of a neatly feathered cap. Too Young’s beachside volleyball and the disco infectious If I Ever Feel Better get the bulk of the crowd dancing, but even the skeptical indieboys at the back raise a smile as Daft-Punk style voice distortion guests alongside belly-bursting funky punk. Fantastically, the only thing predictable about Phoenix is the fact that they’re never going to be predictable.

By the end of the set, this band have the crowd at their shabbily sneakered feet. Cheering, singing, pogoing, dancing bumper to bumper and laughing they may be, but at their feet all the same.

Phoenix; Flaming funktastic.

Karl Cremin

Roofdog Interviews - Phoenix

Live Reviews
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